Consolation
by shrk-bait
Summary: When the Gryffindor Quidditch team loses a decisive match and their captain, Oliver Wood, falls into a solitary funk, they no choice but to send in someone to snap him out of it. Oliver Wood & Katie Bell.
1. Chapter 1

**CONSOLATION**

**By Shrk-Bait**

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**Author's Note**

This is really unexpected. Signs of life after a solid three years of silent, fanfiction death! Let's face it. Those other stories are old—too old for me to continue. Trust me, I tried to return and pick up where I left off, but I just couldn't. Even so, I love the unexpected review from time to time, and was inspired to write something new.

This story is fully finished, four short completed chapters guaranteed. I wanted to be sure not to post another abandoned story. I know it's not James and Lily, but I like Oliver and Katie. It leaves a lot of room for interpretation since it technically doesn't exist. This was my take. There aren't too many out there and I thought I would put in my little contribution.

It's been so long since I've updated and I don't know if Harry Potter fanfiction has died down, but I really enjoyed writing this and I feel a little proud to have a short, complete story. That being said, I hope you all enjoy it!

**Disclaimer**

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling.

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**CHAPTER 1**

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"Alicia, _please_. I can feel you worrying from all the way over here," she mumbled. Katie Bell looked over the latest edition of _Quidditch Monthly_ at the nervous figure in the middle of the courtyard. "I'm sure they'll talk some sense into him."

She lay the magazine open on her lap and mustered up a look meant to convey comfort, but failed miserably in actually doing so. Alicia gave herself a little shake and took a deep breath, but seemed as tense as ever. "This is Oliver Wood we're talking about."

"Exactly! He's probably been restored his usual tyrannical self. We'll be back on the pitch by tomorrow morning, probably with doubled practice hours for the next two weeks."

"But it was supposed to be our year, and this was a big loss—especially for Oliver," she sighed, searching Katie's face for a reaction. Katie barely moved. She didn't even look up. Alicia let out an exasperated groan and blurted out, "You really expect me to believe that you're not worried?"

Alicia Spinnet's voice trailed off, leaving behind a strange hint of prying curiosity. If Katie had noticed the peculiar tone, she certainly did nothing to address it.

"Why should I be?" Katie muttered flipping a page in her magazine and continuing to read. It was short and dismissive and not the answer Alicia had been hoping to hear. In fact, with Katie's inflection and slightly raspy voice, it sounded almost cruel.

Still, they had been friends for a long time, long enough for Alicia to know that Katie was not heartless. Katie Bell could be stubborn and guarded and hard to decipher. She could deny emotion and feign indifference, but she always cared—even if she didn't always like to admit it.

Just then, George Weasley leapt into view. He struck an exaggerated pose—hands planted proudly on his hips and chest pushed out with pride. Fred Weasley and Angelina Johnson followed with much less enthusiasm.

"We have found our wayward captain," George announced.

"We could barely get a proper sentence out of him." Angelina sat down on the cold, marble bench and let out a frustrated groan.

"The git just blew right past us," Fred grumbled as his lanky arms fell limply at his sides. "I feel so rejected."

"Fret not, brother. It wasn't personal," George assured him. "The time he chased us out of the locker room, spitting and cursing at us for jinxing his broom before practice—that may have been a little bit personal."

"Such a nasty temper, that Oliver Wood. No sense of humor."

"And the things that came out of his mouth! I never—" Fred began, before Alicia cut him off with a testy glare.

"Enough you two," she snapped. "Now is not the time. Where is he, then?"

Getting answers from the Twins seemed like a strained endeavor, so Alicia quickly turned to Angelina. Angelina looked over to where the tower tops peeked over the stone walls, the flags mounted at their heads waving violently in the high winds.

"He was heading out towards the field," She sighed. "Probably moping around in one of the viewing towers."

"Deciding whether or not to throw himself off," Fred chuckled to the side.

His voice hadn't been particularly loud and he didn't mean it as anything more than edgy side commentary, but it was a small courtyard and there was not enough distance between them all to allow fleeting dashes of comedy to slip past unnoticed.

"That's not funny, Fred," she said with a scowl. Angelina was accustomed to rebuking him and Fred was no stranger to her scolding, but he sensed that this was not time for jokes and immediately straightened his face. Having had just lost a match, they were all on edge.

"Oh come off it, Ang." He slid onto the bench and swung his arm around her shoulder. He shook it lightly with a tender nudge. She let him linger there, which he took to mean that the tension had passed. "I'm only kidding."

"—We _hope_. But let's not take any chances. Someone should try and talk to him," Alicia suggested.

The group agreed almost unanimously. The only exceptions were Katie, so engrossed in her magazine that she took little notice of her teammates, and Harry, who was the newest and youngest and not present at all.

One by one, they looked over at Katie and settled upon the same idea. It was a chorus of suppressed grins and silent nods. With a loud, echoing _clap_, George gave Katie's shoulder a friendly pat and, on behalf of the team, delivered the verdict: "You're up, champ."

If the suspicious attempts to keep quiet had not caught her attention, then the unexpected conditions of her sacrifice certainly did the trick. She popped up and whipped around to face the others.

"What?" she croaked, breathing deeply and trying to compose herself. "No, no, no. You know I'm terrible with consolation."

"It has to be you," Angelina insisted. "You know Oliver better than anyone."

Katie froze. "That's not true."

"C'mon Katie, it's for the team!" Alicia urged.

"Well, we can just get Harry to talk to him then," she suggested quickly, almost desperately. "I'm sure he's around here somewhere."

Fred let out a bark of laughter. George looked at her like she was mad and Angelina gave her a wilted, pitiful smile that said it all. The idea was ridiculous and Katie knew it, but she resented how easily they dismissed her.

"You think sending _Harry_ to deal with Wood is a good idea?" grumbled George. "We do want him to stay around for the next few years, don't we? We need a Seeker."

Alicia, sensing the tension building and Katie's temper flaring, piped in quickly—"Harry has enough to deal with as it is. Look, we all know that dealing with Oliver at times like this can be a bit tense."

"So you're sending me. Brilliant idea," Katie groaned. "I love Harry, but we've sheltered him long enough. He's young, he's clever, he can't go wrong! Besides, Oliver really likes Harry."

"Well if you put it that way, you know Oliver also really l—" Angelina remarked quietly before being deftly silenced by Katie's frigid glare.

To the others, Angelina was only teasing, but to Katie, it was the sign of an impending betrayal. The two girls had been best friends ever since the start of Hogwarts. They were both outspoken, but Angelina was always a little more aggressive. Still, they shared the same temper, and Angelina knew she had hit a nerve with that one.

Katie had a fight in her that, when provoked, could look quite nasty. It made her an excellent Chaser—driven, aggressive, relentless. With the Quaffle in her arms, she would shoot past the defenders like a hurricane and hurl the ball with singular focus, right past the Keeper and straight into the goal. When Katie was on a rampage, it was in everyone's best interest to proceed with caution. It started with a narrowing of the eyes and a crazed look of simultaneous focus and disassociation. She wasn't just concentrated; she was possessed. It was a fast and deadly shift from her normally easy nature to her brutal wrath.

Years of splintered broomsticks and bruised opponents had warned them of that. Fred, who had been her teammate for all those years and her friend for even longer, saw that look boiling dangerously under the surface. Panic crossed his face and he promptly decided that it was the right moment to change tactics.

"Okay look at it this way. Our Keeper needs a keeper, Bell," Fred told her kindly. "I'd do it, but it just so happens to be _your _turn."

"It is, is it? How do you figure that?"

"Well, I took the blame for being late to practice before that scrimmage game last week," George said immediately.

"That's because it was _your_ fault," Angelina insisted, shaking her head. "I stayed behind after the great Ravenclaw debacle of last year."

"But was that really by choice? I seem to remember you were slow to leave the locker room and got _stuck_ listening to him rant," Fred teased. Angelina shot him a scathing look and he responded with a wincing smile.

"I don't see you going to great lengths to assist our dear Captain, Weasley," she snapped back.

"Au contraire. Post-Slytherin semifinals—I lent him my beater for… stress relief."

"Oh, like that coun—"

"Enough! Oliver's upset and we're just sitting here arguing," Alicia's voice of reason silenced the bickering. "We've all done our fair share for the team, but let's face it—Oliver's done a lot more. So let's just try to cheer him up, okay?"

Their chatter fell to murmurs of agreement.

It was true that Oliver Wood took devotion to an unprecedented extreme. Quidditch wins and losses were not about the outcome or the thrill of the competition. They were about pride, effort, reason for existence. It was an understatement to simply say he cared about the game. Despite his strict demands and maniacal energy, having Oliver Wood as Gryffindor Captain made Quidditch what it was. They were a family because of Oliver and Katie knew this well.

She took a deep breath and finally conceded, "Alright. I'll go, but don't blame me if he still ends up splattered over the pitch."

Katie stood up, tucked the magazine into her bag, and gave her scarf a firm tug for warmth. She did not look particularly happy, but she wasn't entirely angry either. Angelina swore she saw an anxious blush on her friend's cheeks, though Katie would have certainly attributed the sudden flush to cold weather and poor circulation.

"Now, Bell, remember that he's especially sensitive right now," Fred warned as he and his brother began to follow her out of the courtyard.

"Yes, and you do not want to make things worse, so try not to be so—"

"So _what_, Weasley," she asked with a threatening growl. "Do you two want to do this instead of me?"

"No, no," they said in unison, trailing behind as Katie sped up to get away. They watched her moved further down the hall, her figure growing smaller and smaller.

"We're just trying to be supportive," Fred hollered, but she was already gone. He gave a shrug. "Think she'll survive?"

"She seems like she's in a bit of a foul mood too. Maybe the real question we should ask is if Wood is going to survive."

They shared a chuckle and headed back to the other girls, who were sitting close together and speaking in lowered voices.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Alicia asked, nervously. "Katie's not really the comforting type. I'm more worried she'll toss him off that tower than talk him down from it."

"Trust me," Angelina replied with an impish grin. "If anyone can take Oliver's mind off this, it's her."

Alicia's eyes grew wide in a sudden flash of understanding. She gave a slow nod of delighted approval. Their soft giggles were interrupted by the reappearance of the Weasley twins, hovering nosily around them.

"Oy, what are you two twittering about over here?"

"Nothing," Alicia answered, though a little too nervously.

Fred and George shared skeptical looks. They were natural-born schemers and could smell the hint of a plot. Angelina, however, knew that despite their suspicions, Fred and George Weasley were clueless. They were only boys, and unobservant boys at that.

"Just discussing the welfare of our Captain," she assured them coolly. Angelina looked up at the dark clouds floating heavily above the castle. "We better get inside. It looks like it's going to rain any minute now."

They all began to shuffle indoors. Angelina took one last look at the distant Quidditch towers and smiled to herself before following the others inside.

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**Thanks for reading! Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**CONSOLATION**

**By Shrk-Bait**

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**Author's Note**

As promised, the next chapter! These next two are more serious, I guess. You know- the drama! Anyway, thank you so much to those who are reading this and especially those who reviewed! I think Oliver/Katie is completely underrated. There are so many directions to take with it, so now that this chapter includes Oliver, I really hope you enjoy my take. Enjoy!

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**Chapter 2**

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She looked up at the three hoops raised high above her. The sky was gloomy, but Katie didn't mind. It fit her brooding just fine.

She kept replaying the game in her head, going over each goal scored and each chance missed. They were so close—again. If her hand hadn't slipped during that reverse pass, if Anthony Rickett hadn't intercepted their Porkshoff ploy, if they had perfected the Hawkshead formation at practice like Oliver wanted…

Her mind wandered back to Oliver. She had almost forgotten. She was supposed to find Oliver. He could be anywhere.

The Hogwarts field stretched for over 150 yards and there werefive spectator towers, each with a spiraling staircase that took a significant amount of energy and a solid ten minutes to climb.

"Okay, so let's pretend I'm Oliver Wood," she muttered to herself, scanning the pitch for inspiration. "Now… where would I be?"

Her gaze settled once again on the three Hufflepuff hoops. If they had clung on to the Quaffle for just a little longer or if they had managed to score just a few more goals, they would all be celebrating and Oliver Wood would be parading around the Common Room with his chest puffed out, not moping around the pitch, revisiting the painful circumstances of their loss.

And then, Katie knew. She knew where he would be. The wind began to pick up as she headed straight towards the tower at the other end of the pitch.

Her mind stirred nervously with each step. She had always been tough. She wasn't sympathetic or comforting or even particularly encouraging. They had lost a desperately important match and winning the House Cup was a near impossibility now. Some people could see silver linings in any situation, but Katie was not one of those people. Everything she could think to say ended the same way and not in a way that would help Oliver feel any better. She dreaded having to speak to him and prayed it would end quickly. The steps seemed endless.

When she finally reached the top of the stairs, there he was—sitting on the bench with his body hunched over and his hands fidgeting restlessly. He stared down at the wooden floor, brooding and distraught.

For a moment, she just watched him, unsure how she should interrupt or if she should interrupt at all. She hadn't thought of anything particularly inspiring to say. Perhaps Oliver just needed some time alone. Yes, that was it. He didn't need her to try to cheer him up or risk possibly make things worse.

She took a quiet step back to leave. The step creaked—just her luck. It was too much to hope that he hadn't heard. Oliver looked up instantly.

"Oliver Wood," she stuttered and winced a little. There was no getting out of it now. She had been caught. "Fancy seeing you here."

He gave her a weak smile and she returned it. Neither of them was very convincing. The air at the top of the tower was especially cold, but Katie felt a sudden rush of discomfort that warmed her. Oliver had yet to say something and Katie wanted nothing more than to leave. She loosened the tight grip of the scarf around her neck.

"Did the team send you?" he asked, looking away.

Katie chuckled nervously, "And here I was trying to be all subtle about it."

She looked at Oliver, staring out at the field. Honestly, she was just thankful he wasn't looking at her; his silence made things painful enough. _Say something_, she begged him silently. _Oliver, please say something._

He seemed unaffected by her demands. Oliver always seemed to have something to say—before the match, after the match, across the hallway, at the breakfast table, between classes, in the middle of the night. There was always something. Something about eating properly before matches, getting a decent amount of sleep, practicing broom maintenance, exercising flight drills, incorporating strategies, building team unity. But not this time. This time, he was silent.

It was unlike him, and it was only now that Katie began to worry.

_Okay, _she told herself. _I'll say something._ She sifted through her brain, revisiting old memories and conversations. They had been on the same team for years. It's not as if they had never spoken, but at this moment, nothing helpful came to mind.

"So, did you see the latest article on Puddlemere United?" she finally blurted, unable to withstand the unsettling air between them. It did not occur to her until after she spoke that, considering his present woes, he might not want to discuss Quidditch. She cursed herself and prepared for the worst.

"When did it come in? This morning?" he asked, revealing a hint of the Oliver Wood she was much more accustomed to. "My owl must've gotten lost again."

"You can borrow my copy," she offered, tossing him the magazine. He looked grateful and Katie felt slightly relieved.

"I didn't realize you follow them," he said offhandedly as he skimmed through the pages.

"Well, I'm more of a Harpies fan myself," she replied thoughtfully. "But I like Puddlemere well enough. They've hit a rotten losing streak lately, but I'm sure they'll get themselves out of it."

"I think so too. It's good to know someone agrees with me," he said, smiling. "Wilda Griffiths used to be on the Harpies, didn't she?"

"She's actually one of the reasons I started following Puddlemere."

They slipped into an easy calm, as they always did when it came to Quidditch. It was the one solid thing they knew they always had in common. It all started to feel normal again, like Gryffindor hadn't lost the match and they weren't both upset and Oliver wasn't the captain and Katie hadn't been sent to bring him back.

"The Holyhead Harpies, huh? Well, Gwenog Jones is a bit too intense for me," Oliver started to say.

Katie held back a scoff and waived the temptation to comment on the irony of Oliver Wood calling anyone "intense."

He didn't seem to notice and continued on, "But she's a great captain. She knows how to keep morale going. I've got to give her that."

His words carried a sad tone and his mouth moved with a twitch of jealousy. They both fell silent. Oliver went back to staring down at his hands and Katie, not knowing what else to do, went back to staring down at the floor. The brief familiarity between them passed quickly and the air grew stale with their awkwardness.

Katie could see, quite clearly, that he was upset, regardless of how he tried to hide it. At that moment, she wished she had the calm calculation of Angelina or the selfless compassion of Alicia or the disarming charm of Fred and George. They would know what to do. They would know what to say, but Katie was on her own and nothing particularly helpful came to mind.

"Can I ask you a question?" Katie asked suddenly, surprised by her own boldness. "And can we maybe pretend like you're not the team Captain and we're just… I don't know…friends?"

What do you mean?" he asked, confused. "I thought we were."

She didn't know how to respond. Were they? She had never thought of it much.

Even before he took his place as Captain, she had always felt it was a part of him. He was the only one who cared that much, who cared _enough_. From what she heard, Oliver had staked his claim as future captain since he first made the team. Not only that, but he apparently worked himself to frequent exhaustion just to prove it. Quidditch was a part of him, something assumed and unquestioned.

She hesitated, "Just don't make me fly extra laps or anything."

He laughed, but agreed. Katie Bell took a deep breath and gathered her courage.

"Why do you let it get to you like this? I know you don't handle defeat well and neither do I, but sometimes you shut down. Or you freak out. Or you disappear. Like today, you just storm off without a word and we find you up here and of course we have no idea what you're thinking and Alicia is seriously worried that you might just hop over the railing and splatter yourself all over the pitch."

"Wouldn't that be a mess?" He said with a dark chuckle.

She ignored it and continued, "It's not really my place to say anything and you don't have to explain yourself to me, but it's just a game."

For a while, he said nothing. Katie had always been a strong girl with an outspoken voice, but there was a layer of timidity under her bravado that made him pause. He looked at her softly, but she missed it. She had been staring at the floor, cheeks red from embarrassment and cold. Oliver got up from his seat and stood next to her, leaning against the outer railing and looking out at the stormy clouds.

"Katie, you're a good Chaser—great, even," he admitted. Katie coughed suddenly and gave him a skeptical look. He laughed at her surprise. "What, you think I haven't noticed? We've only been on the same team for years. Don't think I don't know you."

She opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her with a look. Katie knew him too. She noticed his eyes narrowing into a dark focus and the sides of his jaw stiffening. She knew that this meant he was serious, but she had never really seen him serious about much other than Quidditch and it scared her a bit.

"You don't think it's just a game. You say it, but you don't mean it," he said quietly. "When you were too sick to keep playing that Ravenclaw match last autumn and I had to take you out, you wouldn't talk to me for a week. You always hide your injuries because you think I won't notice and I'll let you play. You complain about practices and you hate me for pushing you so hard, but sometimes you go out and fly on your own time so you'll get better."

She felt her cheeks grow hot. She didn't expect him to have noticed. She rarely caused problems, made few mistakes, and played a solid game. She was a strong player, but nothing spectacular. She blended into the team well—nothing in desperate need of discipline or correction, nothing to constantly rave about or praise. But Oliver _was _the Captain, and she told herself that he must make it a point to notice everything.

He continued: "I'm willing to bet that you weren't a part of this team mission to cheer me up. They volunteered you. _You_ were probably sitting somewhere all calm and composed, acting like this loss doesn't _really_ affect you. But in your head, I know you're going crazy thinking of strategies we should've used and ways we could've scored more."

She looked right at him, as if staring him down would help figure him out. She didn't understand how Oliver could see through her so easily when she couldn't seem to read him at all.

He matched her unblinking stare and said calmly, "You're telling me it's just a game, but I know you, Katie Bell. You don't mean it."

"Well, but—" she began, but stopped as she realized that he was right. It made her angry. She resented how well he knew her and how easily he picked apart her mood. "So what if I don't? We're not talking about me, are we?"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. Look, I don't mean to worry anyone," he assured her. "I know I can be a little… crazy… sometimes, but you understand, right?"

He took a deep breath and looked away.

"It's not just a game to me. It's who I am."

Katie had been listening so intently, she barely noticed it starting to rain. The water splattered on the roof of the observation tower and ran down its slope, pouring over the edge before making the long drop down to the ground below. Katie frowned as she watched the storm gathering intensity.

She had forgotten her umbrella in the common room and, at this rate, it would be hours before the rain let up. She never liked it—water soaking through her clothes and weighing down her body, covering her skin in cold air and goosebumps.

Still, as she stood there, caught in the silence between them, she couldn't help but welcome the sound of rain.

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**Thanks for reading! Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**CONSOLATION**

**By Shrk-Bait**

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**Author's Note**

Okay, so it took me a really long time to finally write this chapter, but I'm actually pretty pleased with how it turned out- at least parts of it. Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed or listed this story as a favorite or added me on author alert or any of that good stuff. Honestly, you have no idea how happy it makes me. I do a funny little squeal and get a really dorky smile on my face every single time! Well, I hope you like this chapter half as much as I like hearing from all of you. Enjoy!

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**Chapter 3**

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_It's not just a game to me. It's who I am._

His words gave her the chills.

They always joked about it, about Oliver and what looked to be a lifelong devotion to the sport. They laughed about how he would sell his soul to join the British League, how he would name his children after famous Quidditch players, how he would insist on being buried in his uniform with his broom.

Oliver just wasn't _quite_ Oliver without Quidditch, and to her, Quidditch was not Quidditch without Oliver.

Katie remembered his maniacal demands and grueling tasks during try-outs. She made it through, but not without a mess of scrapes and a large, Quaffle-sized bruise on her abdomen. Then there was the summer they all got together for a surprise, carefree viewing of a professional scrimmage, later followed by a not so carefree boot camp—Oliver's idea of extracurricular bonding. She thought back to all his pre-game talks and post-game affirmations, his enthusiasm during team huddles and his insistence that if they played hard and looked out for each other, they couldn't go wrong.

He was a part of it all—a part of what she loved so much about the game.

But even so, it was certainly not all that he was. Right then and there, Katie Bell finally embraced the role that had been so kindly forced upon her by the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Up until that point, she had acted out of obligation. She had to find him because they told her to. She had to climb that daunting flight of stairs because he was at the top and helping him meant helping the team. She had to cheer him up because it was her turn to do so. She had done it because she was part of the team.

Now, she just felt like cheering up Oliver because she finally remembered that it was _Oliver_. He was the Captain and, sure, it was in the interest of the team to have him return to his normal self, but mostly, she just wanted the real Oliver back.

She wanted to say the right things. She wanted to him to feel better. She wanted to talk to the Oliver she secretly admired, not this sad, glum shadow of the person she thought she knew. She had never seen him this way and it bothered her more than she cared to admit.

"You live near Dorset, don't you?" she asked suddenly.

"Actually, I'm closer to Hampshire," he replied with slight hesitation and a hint of confusion. "Why?"

She ignored his question and continued with a strangely renewed vigor, "And you're obsessed with Fizzing Whizzbees."

"I don't know if that's the word I would use but—"

"You're an only child, but you have a million cousins. You like Transfiguration, but definitely not Arithmacy. You're horrible with names. Your birthday is some time in early February. You don't like trouble, but you don't mind it if you're helping a friend. You hate the texture of meatloaf and… bread pudding."

Katie Bell took a breath. The storm outside raged on in that brief pause. Katie was never one for lingering eye contact or loaded silence, but she felt it necessary to show conviction. Oliver's expression softened.

She exhaled and fixed her voice to an uncharacteristically gentle hum—"So I guess this means you're not _just_ Quidditch, are you?"

Oliver Wood was no dolt. He understood, quite quickly, the point that Katie was making and, whether he really believed it or not, he appreciated her for making it.

She stood before him with such fight. He always recognized it—before they walked onto the pitch for a match, right as she was about to score a goal, even when she was bickering with him over practice schedules. He knew it well.

It was one of the things he liked most about her.

When Katie Bell got that fight in her, Oliver knew it was something she felt was worth the effort, and there was something about Katie that made him want to believe it too.

Oliver smiled. "Well played."

He started to speak again, but Katie wasn't finished. She had more to say and finally seemed to have the words to say it. It was a frighteningly honest state that she both feared and cherished, but she knew it would be short and decided on impulse to make the most of it. So she continued.

"You were right about me, though. I hated that we lost today, and honestly, I didn't want to come talk to you. I didn't know—I don't know what to say to you, even now. I'm just as wrecked about it as you are."

"I guess I'm not setting a very good example by moping, am I?" he admitted softly. "We'll just have to move on from here."

"How?" she asked, an almost desperate quality in her voice. "We lost. We really lost."

He breathed in deep and sighed. His eyes took on a faraway look. She knew this wasn't the first time he had thought about those questions. She was almost certain that he had been asking himself the same thing all day long.

There was something very different about Oliver in that moment. It was something between his fiery intensity and his tortured guilt, but calmer. It was an Oliver she rarely saw, and it occurred to her that perhaps this was the part of Oliver he came to the tower to find. And perhaps Oliver Wood hadn't snapped like they all thought. Maybe he knew what he was doing all along and just needed time.

"This is what we do. We wallow for a bit, let it go, and beat Ravenclaw by more than 150 points next week. Then we work our asses off, destroy Slytherin in the finals, and finish off one hell of a season."

Now _this_ was the Oliver Wood she remembered. The steady assurance of his voice was comforting. It was so different from how he had spoken earlier—quiet shaking in his throat, acoarse uncertainty to his tone. This confidence suited him much better. She was used to it, and despite her own hesitations and fears, she chose to believe what he said.

"Sounds like a good plan."

"Well, I am Captain, aren't I?" he said with a grin. Oliver Wood was back and Katie Bell couldn't be more relieved.

* * *

For a while they talked about strategy, feints and dodges and tactical advantages. That led to the mention of Avery Hawksworth, which lead to a heated discussion about the current team standings in the British Quidditch league. They bickered and argued, both deftly loyal and unwittingly stubborn. They agreed to disagree. They talked about the future of Quidditch and then the future in general.

Everything was normal again.

"By the way, how did you know I like Fizzing Whizzbees so much?" he asked all of the sudden.

"George mentioned it once. He said you restock the hidden stash in your trunk every Hogsmeade trip. I think he dips into it from time to time."

"I thought I noticed a few missing," he grumbled as he sat up. Oliver burrowed his hand deep in the pocket of his cloak and fished out a pair of brightly wrapped Fizzing Whizzbees. "Do you want one?"

"What, now? You have them on you right now?" she teased as Oliver tossed her a sweet and she stretched out her hand to catch it. "This really is beginning to look like obsession, Oliver."

"Just say thank you already," he grumbled with a smile, peeling back the brightly colored wrapper. He popped the sweet into his mouth, and within moments, levitated slightly over the wooden bench. Katie laughed as he folded his legs beneath him, taking on something of a Zen state.

"Look here," he insisted with a boyish grin. He shifted his weight right and then left, making his body rock side to side like a floating metronome. "What's not to love?"

Shortly after popping the candy into her mouth, Katie too started feeling its effects. She floated inches off the ground, trying to swim clumsily through the air. Oliver offered up a friendly competition to determine who could float higher and Katie, who he knew could never turn down a challenge, swiftly agreed. Unfortunately for them, the power of a Fizzing Whizzbee was never meant to be controlled and their efforts to do so ended up looking unbearably foolish. Oliver and Katie thought it was a riot and laughed until the sweets had melted.

Eventually their laughter faded, carried away by the howling of the winds and covered by the crashing of the rain. They fell into a peaceful hush and listened to the weather raging violently against the safety of the tower.

Her purpose for seeking him out had all but disappeared and it was as if nothing had occurred. The imbalance had shifted and returned to a pleasant equilibrium. There was a sense of simplicity and ease to their time together. She would never confess to it, but she enjoyed it. The painful strains of their earlier interaction were foreign to her and she did not care for them. The more she thought about it, the more she realized: aside from the skirmishes between them as Chaser and Keeper or, more likely, as team member and team leader, she always got along with Oliver Wood.

"I'm starving," she moaned, putting on a sour face. "And as good as they are, these are just not going to cut it."

She tossed him the empty candy wrapper and clutched her stomach as it grumbled loudly. He grinned at the sound and patted his own belly.

"You're probably right. They should be opening the Great Hall for supper soon. Why don't we head out?"

Katie looked out at the storm around them. It was no longer just a mild rain, but a heavy downpour. The pitch had morphed into a muddy swamp that seemed to grow with the relentless barrage of bad weather**. **

At this point, the forgotten umbrella, dry and neglected in her room, would be of little use. She needed thick rubber boots and an insulated plastic coat and an umbrella much sturdier than the one she had left behind—all things that she did not have at her disposal.

"In case you haven't noticed, it's pouring."

"You're going to let that stop you?" he challenged her with a smirk and tossed her his cloak. "I thought you were starving."

She shot him a mean look, but he had already begun to make his way down the stairs. Oliver's cloak was heavy and warm in her hands. Reluctantly, she put it on and followed him down the stairs.

He was waiting for her at the bottom. The ground outside was already flooded. Water had begun to seep into the wooden floor of the building from the growing puddle at its base. Katie and Oliver looked out at the storm. It was only getting worse and leaving now seemed like a mad idea. But they both knew they couldn't stay there forever. They would have to leave at some point.

"So how hungry are you?" he asked.

"Really hungry."

"Okay then."

With that, he leapt over the flooded area and out into the open. Oliver tilted his head upwards with a grin, the sky pelting him with rain. Katie thought he looked like he had really lost it, and maybe he had. Still, she couldn't help but admire his madness and so she ran out after him. The rain pelted down on her, seeping into the fabric of Oliver's cloak and stinging her face. She squeezed her eyes shut and kept running after Oliver. It did not occur to her that by doing so, she would not see a particularly slippery patch of mud.

Before she knew it, her foot slid out from under her and she was lying in a slimy bed of grass and mud. She opened her eyes to see Oliver standing over her. He struggled to suppress a laugh and instead gave her his hand. Katie scowled, but secretly welcomed the assistance.

He yelled something, but she couldn't hear over the screaming winds. Oliver pointed to the castle, which was surprisingly not too far. He tugged her in that direction and began to move towards it, still holding onto her hand. Katie was not the type to be so easily led, but in that instance, she decided to let it go just once. Her fingers had grown numb from the cold and Oliver's grip on her hand was not entirely unwelcome.

By the time they reached the dry covering of the building, they were both dripping wet and glad to be out of the rain.

"Well that worked out, didn't it?" Oliver joked in between breaths.

"Maybe better for you than for me," she grumbled and then broke out into a laugh, trying fruitlessly to shake off her new layer of mud and rainwater.

She looked up to catch him staring. There was something different about his expression. His eyes held something she had never noticed before, something piercing and unfamiliar.

Suddenly, he reached out and placed one hand on her shoulder to hold her steady. They were strangely close. Katie felt the pit of her stomach churn as she fought between the natural instinct to step away and the surprising urge to move in towards him**.** But he held her steady and she could do neither in that moment.

Katie watched as he brought his other hand closer towards her. It passed her eye line and drifted towards her face. His fingers reached for her, lessening in the centimeters between them. She didn't move. She couldn't. Her skin flushed despite the cold, but she could do nothing to correct it.

Everything seemed to move at an achingly slow pace, which bothered her a great deal considering her irregularly quick pulse. To control it, she took deep breaths and tried to shift her thoughts elsewhere, but it did no good. All she could do was stand there as the seconds stretched out longer and longer.

"You've got some dirt just there," he told her, wiping her forehead with the brush of his thumb. She could have sworn that he let his hand linger by her face.

He was quite tall. She had known it before, but with Oliver towering over her, she _really_ noticed. The top of her head came up right to the bottom of his nose and she had to look up to see him properly. He was standing close. She noticed that too.

"We better get there before the rush," Katie said slowly, allowing herself time to gather strength into her shaky voice.

"Right, we don't want to be stuck with table scraps and leftovers."

Oliver released her shoulder and stepped away as if nothing had happened. Katie turned away with embarrassment. She could only imagine her own state of being—flushed face, covered in mud, hair in a mess, dripping like a wet dog. And that didn't even include her strange behavior.

Katie Bell couldn't figure out just what was wrong with her. Her heart was pounding like it always did before an important match. Her breath was shallow like it always was at the end of a grueling practice. But she was a seasoned Quidditch player. Running at that pace, even through the rain, was nothing. Surely there was something wrong. Her head felt a little off-balance. Maybe she was coming down with a fever. Maybe she was losing her stamina. Katie made a note to visit Madame Pomfrey and double her conditioning regiment.

She snuck a glance at Oliver. Other than being very wet, he looked completely fine. He didn't seem nervous or flustered or confused or anything. In fact, he seemed to be quite normal. Something knotted in her stomach. Maybe it was envy or a touch of injured pride. Or maybe she was just hungry. She couldn't really decide.

"Katie," he called. "Are you coming or not?"

She nodded and shook it off. It was nothing. There was nothing wrong with her. Even if there was, Oliver Wood had nothing to do with it. Nothing at all.

She was just hungry.

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**Thanks for reading! Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**CONSOLATION**

**By Shrk-Bait**

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**Author's Note**

Well, this is it— the longest (and last) chapter. It's nice to actually have something finished, even if it is somewhat short. I would really appreciate some feedback on this last chapter, so please review! I hope this has been a worthy addition to relatively small number of stories out there featuring Oliver Wood and Katie Bell. It's been really wonderful hearing your comments and I truly appreciate having readers. I hope this meets some of your expectations! Enjoy!

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**Chapter 4**

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"So how did you know where to find me?" he asked as they walked towards the Great Hall, the water in their shoes squishing with each step.

"I figured you probably blamed yourself for the team losing. That tower has the best view of our goals," she told him. "It'd be the easiest way to go over things in your head, and I knew you would."

"So you went to the Hufflepuff side first, then?"

She nodded, "I guess we're pretty predictable, huh?"

He shrugged, "Maybe… or, I don't know, maybe it just means we know each other well."

Katie tensed up. Angelina had said that once_._ Katie didn't believe it then and she didn't believe it much now, but it was a curious thing to think and she couldn't help wonder if it was true, even if only in part.

Oliver was known around Hogwarts, but she wouldn't consider him exceptionally popular. He was friendly enough, but mostly kept to himself and a smaller company of friends. That included the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and that, of course, included Katie Bell. They were years apart, but as chance would have it, they spoke often and knew each other well. It was never on purpose or with any real preparation. It was just how things happened.

When they first met, Katie was running late and Oliver just happened to be in the closest open carriage on the Hogwarts Express. They shared the love of a certain magical sport and discussed it thoroughly while splitting an assortment of sweets from the trolley.

That season, Oliver was Keeper for Gryffindor and Katie was an avid follower of the game. She made it a point to attend every match and even some practices—preparation for the future, she would say. When she joined as a Chaser the following year, they naturally crossed paths.

The next summer, it was coincidence that they ran into each other in Diagon Alley and just convenient that they had to wait a few hours until Madame Malkin had their new robes finished. It had been a hot day and Fortescue's was just across the street, so of course they got ice cream together to pass the time. Oliver paid—an early apology for the excruciatingly long practices and intense training he already had planned.

During the most recent Hogsmeade weekend, they met by chance at Dervish & Banges. Katie needed her Wizard's Chess set touched up and Oliver was having his magical wristwatch adjusted. They both stopped at Honeydukes and after that, it seemed only fitting to get a drink at the Three Broomsticks before heading back to school.

None of it was really intentional. They always seemed to pass in the hallways or meet accidentally in the Common Room. She hadn't thought much of it before, but it was almost all she could think about now. Katie was certain there was something wrong with her. After all, it was not normal for her mind to be so fully occupied by someone who was only a teammate and just a friend.

"Are you alright?" Oliver asked, puzzled by her sudden lack of movement.

"Of course. I just remembered—" She took off the cloak Oliver had lent her earlier. It was heavy and soaked in rainwater and mud. "This belongs to you. I'm afraid it's not in very good condition."

"That's alright. In exchange, I'll let you clean my Quidditch gear for a week."

"Oh that's generous of you."

"Yes, well you know it's in my nature," he teased as he held open the door to the dining hall.

A warm glow touched everything within the Great Hall. Unlike the heavy rainclouds and brutal winds raging outside, the enchanted ceiling was nothing but calm and clear. Stars twinkled and gleamed above them. Candles laughed and flickered, surrounded by an endless spread of food on each table. The crash of weather outside was easily hidden by the comforting buzz of young witches and wizards.

Katie momentarily forgot about her unkempt state and the ambiguous new feelings she couldn't quite figure out. There was no time to think of those, especially now that everything was right again. Just then, Oliver found the Gryffindor Quidditch team seated at a table not far from the entrance. The others quickly noticed the dripping wet pair approaching.

Fred leapt up from his seat and stood at attention the moment he saw them.

"O Captain! My Captain!"

"Our fearless leader returns at last," George announced. He stepped back to have a surveying look over Oliver and then reached out to pat his shoulder. "A bit damp, but decent enough."

"So what happened to you, Bell?"

"Piss off," Katie grumbled, giving Fred a good shove to the shoulder before sitting down between Alicia and Greg. Oliver took the empty seat at the end of the table.

It was clear that the others were waiting on his next move. He was, after all, their captain. They watched him from the corner of their eyes. Slight eye blinks and small facial twitches became a silent code, each movement waiting anxiously on Oliver Wood.

"So is everything alright?" Alicia asked timidly. They held their breath.

"Everything is fine," Oliver replied sheepishly. "I know I took the loss a little hard. Sorry if I worried you."

"What kind of team would we be if we didn't worry about our Captain just a little?" Angelina told him with a smile.

"It's no big deal. We'll always be here to keep your sanity in check—" Fred assured him.

"—Even if it means going to great lengths to test it," George finished his brother's words with flawless timing.

"Oh, well that explains everything," Oliver laughed. "All the trouble you cause is for my benefit, is it?"

"Someone has to keep you on your toes."

"Lucky for you, we come in a convenient set of two."

"Yes, lucky me. So look, I know today was hard on us," Oliver began. The Twins fell into a respectful hush and the others listened carefully. After all, their captain was speaking. "But I say we forget about it. Today is done, but that doesn't mean we're through yet, so don't think I'll be going any easier on you."

"We still have a shot?" Alicia asked. The other turned at the sound of her voice and immediately directed their attention back to Oliver, waiting silently for his response.

"The season's not over. We're the best Quidditch team at Hogwarts. I know it. Just think of this as our chance to prove it."

They all nodded in agreement. Oliver was right, of course. When it came to Quidditch, Oliver was always right. They trusted him. They believed in him. He was their Captain and their friend, and they were happy to have him back.

Just as he began loading his dinner plate with roasted potatoes, Oliver spotted Professor McGonagall enter the dining hall. He dropped his plate, grabbed a single roll instead, and excused himself—he had business to attend to. The team just laughed and let him go. Yes, Oliver Wood was definitely back.

"Oh and Weasleys," he turned around after finishing the roll in one swallow. "A little restraint on those cream puffs, yeah?"

He gave them a look and headed off towards the Transfiguration professor with a renewed sense of vigor. They knew it well. There was confidence, a desire to win, the genuine optimism and faith. The sight of it within their Captain gave the Gryffindor Quidditch team a welcomed sense of pride and relief. They returned to their dinners, all except Katie, whose eyes lingered on Oliver despite rational inclinations and hunger pangs.

"Typical Oliver, always forgetting to think about himself. George, can you finish putting together a plate for him? He's going to need to sit down for a proper meal eventually," Angelina sighed and handed over Oliver's abandoned plate. Then she turned to Katie. "So was it as painful as you thought it would be?"

Katie snapped back to life and began to fill her plate, but didn't respond. Angelina took that as a sign to tread cautiously. "Are you still angry at me?"

"I'm not angry," Katie confirmed. "Just very very hungry. It's been a long day."

Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell had been friends since the beginning and there was very little they kept from each other. Angelina could always tell if Katie was in a mood and she always seemed to know what to do about it, but this case was different. She knew that Katie wasn't sad and was certain that Katie was no longer angry, but there was something else that Angelina just couldn't figure out. Still, she knew Katie would bring it up all in good time and decided to wait patiently until that time came.

"And what about Oliver? He seems okay," Alicia noted. "Better than normal, actually. What did you say to him?"

"Nothing really. We just talked."

Katie looked over at Oliver. He had cornered Professor McGonagall just before she took a seat and was in the intense process of explaining something to her. McGonagall snuck a quick glance at the disappearing dinner display, but seemed willing to wait and appreciate Oliver's usual dedication instead. Alicia was right. Oliver seemed perfectly fine.

"You didn't have to threaten to snap his broom or nick his new issues of _Quidditch Monthly_?" Fred asked incredulously.

Angelina rolled her eyes. "Would those have been your tactics?"

"They've proved quite effective in the past," he said confidently. "In fact, I took the liberty of getting started on the latter."

Fred pulled out a copy of the magazine, clearly addressed to Oliver Wood. Angelina snatched it away from him.

"Well then, I'm glad we decided to send Katie. Who knows where we'd be if you'd gone to comfort him."

"Yes, well done, Bell," George agreed. He gave her a good pat on the back and an encouraging nod. "We knew you'd be able to handle it."

Angelina beamed proudly, but lowered her voice to offer a hushed apology. "I might've gone a bit too far to convince you, though. I know I shouldn't have said th—anything. I shouldn't have said anything."

Angelina Johnson was a proud person. She didn't apologize often, mostly because she refused to concede to defeat unless she actually meant it. She was really honest in that way. But there she was apologizing, and Katie could tell that she meant it. Plus, rocky beginnings and rainy conclusions aside, it hadn't turned out too badly.

"It couldn't be helped," Katie said with a smile. "It was my turn."

"Spoken like a true Gryffindor," George declared as he and Fred gathered a cluster of desserts onto a spare plate. It was a spectacle.

"C'mon now, don't look at us like that," Fred huffed defensively. "We realize it's customary to have dinner before dessert, but you heard what Oliver said. While he's away, we're trusting in your loyalty to keep a tight lip."

"We won't say anything, but don't you think Oliver will notice?" Alicia asked. "What will he say when he sees that half of the desserts at our table are missing before dinner is even over?"

Fred and George had not considered that. The girl had a point.

"We should—" George began.

"—Borrow from the neighbors?" Fred finished.

"My thoughts exactly."

And so the Twins darted off, chatting their way around the surrounding tables and sneaking sweets as they passed. Their plan seemed to work flawlessly until they reached a table of Gryffindor girls that included their younger sister Ginny, who was well aware of their tricks and quite impervious to their charms. Before they knew it, the brothers were subjected to a loud, snappy lecture and the sharing of a particularly embarrassing childhood story as punishment. Adding insult to injury, their collective treats were promptly confiscated. Fred and George returned to their table disgraced and empty-handed, not to mention vulnerable to heavy taunting from their teammates.

By the time dinnertime was half finished and Oliver finally made it back to the table, the steady teasing of the Weasley Twins had died down. But one passing mention of desserts and an exaggerated retelling of the earlier events was enough to inspire a second round of laughing fits. Katie clutched the sides of her stomach, as if wrapping her arms would keep them from splitting.

It was good to be part of the team.

As diners scraped the serving dishes clean and the Great Hall began to clear out, Katie rose from her seat and announced, "I'm exhausted and I think I still have some mud stuck in my ears, so I'm leaving first."

She could feel the water left in her shoes and hear the noise they made as she walked towards the large wooden doors.

"Katie! Wait," a voice called after her. She had a feeling she recognized it. She turned around to see Oliver walking behind her. His shoes still squished. "Can I speak to you for a bit?"

She was hoping to make a subtle exit, take a long, therapeutic shower, and curl up in bed, all the while giving very little thought to the strange feelings that had materialized earlier that day. A full night's rest was just what she needed to restore her better judgment and flush out all the tricky emotions coaxed out of her from the crucial loss and bad weather.

But Katie Bell was not that lucky. With Oliver Wood standing right there, it looked like she would have to deal with things much sooner that expected. In fact, she was hoping to never have to deal directly with it at all. Still, she agreed and, together, they walked out into the empty hallway.

"I just wanted to thank you," he began to say. There was something nervous about the way he was speaking and standing and acting, but Katie couldn't tell if she was projecting her own emotions onto the situation or not.

She told herself to stop fussing and interrupted, "You don't have to. I did what anyone else would've done. Actually, I didn't really do anything at all."

"Of course you did," he insisted with a slight frown and a short sigh. She always had to make things difficult. "Look, I'm the Captain. I know you're a decent teammate and a damn good Chaser, but I just want you to know that I think of you as a friend too. I needed a friend and I'm glad it was you."

She stared at him, certain that she should say something equally heartfelt in return. Her head swirled with words, but none of them seemed good enough to make it out into the open. So she just stood there with a dumb look.

He continued, "Just accept my thanks, alright?" She nodded and managed a smile.

The events of that day pushed themselves to the front of her mind. Oliver had been convinced that to everyone else, he was only a Quidditch player and very little besides that.

When he first told her, she thought the whole thing was a bit dramatic. Oliver was just too invested in the game they had just lost. He wasn't thinking clearly. Of course he was more than just his ability to stop a Quaffle or his tactical game plans. Of course he was more than just the Captain. But the more she thought about it, the more she wondered if maybe his fears were somewhat justified.

Maybe sometimes they did just see him and think of Quidditch.

She was just as guilty. Sometimes it was just easier to see things that way. It was simpler to think of him in terms of the game. After all, it was much more difficult to separate Oliver Wood, Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, from Oliver Wood, friend. It made things complicated, and Katie never liked being complicated.

_I'm glad it was you._

What did that mean? She revisited those words again and again, fighting back the fluttery feelings bubbling in her stomach. A tiny glance at Oliver and her mouth began to curl into a smile. Katie shook it off and looked away. Her heart was beating fast and all the deep breathing in the world could not slow it down. She didn't understand it, but she knew it was the signs of something complicated. She was well aware that this was not the reaction one typically had towards a friend or a Quidditch Captain.

So maybe for her, Oliver Wood had to be something else entirely. And maybe it didn't have to be complicated. Maybe it could be simple. Quidditch Captain, friend, upperclassman, unexpected secret crush. They were really just the same person.

He was a tyrant at practice. He was a nag the night before. He was a strategist in mid-match huddles. He was a mess when they lost. He was a champion when they won. He was a child around sweets and butterbeer. He was diligent before exams. He was a slacker with assignments. He was a good listener. He was neurotic. He was a dictator. He was a comedian. He was a leader. He was predictable. He was mysterious. He was a friend. _And she liked him._

But Oliver was always just Oliver. That was what she liked the most.

"You look like you have something to say," he said, interrupting her thoughts. She had finally gathered the courage to admit all this to herself, but even Katie's courage shrunk at the idea of speaking it out loud. Telling him was another matter entirely. She was bold, but maybe not as bold as she thought.

"It's not important." Katie Bell had never known herself to be so timid.

"Are you sure? You listened to me whine all afternoon. The least I can do is return the favor."

"It's nothing. I'm just a little tired."

"Right, well you should go. I didn't mean to keep you," he apologized. "I can't have my Chasers exhausted and falling off their brooms, can I?"

"You should get some rest too. You sound like you're coming down with something. You won't be much of a Captain if you can't even yell at us during practice."

She smirked. They were predictable. He would default to Quidditch and so would she. She would never miss practice, even if she threatened to. He would always put the team before himself. He was not easy to figure out and neither was she. They were predictable.

Or maybe Oliver was right and maybe they just knew each other too well.

They both had something important to say, but couldn't quite figure out how to say it. So they talked about Quidditch or Hogsmeade or exams or the weather. They both felt anxious and nervous, but were too involved to notice that the other person was exactly the same way. So they tried clumsily to hide it. They were both neurotic and devoted and complicated. They both feared that complication.

But after years of being teammates and friends, they both knew that there was more to their friendship than Quidditch. And though neither was quite ready to admit it, they both secretly hoped that, just maybe, there was more than just friendship too.

"Just so you know, I would've been _really_ upset if you had ended up splattered on the pitch," Katie said quietly. "And not just because you're the Captain and not just because they would've shut down the field."

She had said it. Well, the closest she could come to ever saying _it._ After letting out a long overdue breath, she began to turn away and leave—a perfectly timed exit. But Katie was not that lucky and Oliver had no intention of letting it end on her terms.

In one swift motion, he caught her hand and pulled her close. She was light and fell easily into him. Katie was in his arms and Oliver could barely think, his actions fueled by impulse and audacity alone. He had gone too far to weigh the complications, not that he would have reconsidered either way.

He gently lifted her chin towards him and pressed into her lips, a sweet and simple kiss. It was short and Oliver half expected her to pull back, but Katie felt her knees get a little weaker and gladly leaned into him. Even after they broke away, their faces hovered close.

His mouth was dry and his warm breath grazed the side of her face. He pulled back, but lingered. Freckles scattered over her cheeks, their color so light that he would have missed them if they hadn't been so close. At this range, he could see her eyes more clearly. He could hear her heart beating fast enough to rival his own, and he knew she was holding her breath. He would have felt it against his skin had she exhaled.

He wanted to stay there, close to her, and he trusted that she would not object, but it was getting late and Katie needed to breathe.

"G'night," he said, though it came out as more of a deep whisper. Oliver let his hand fall from her shoulders and stepped back. He flashed her something like a smile, gave a polite nod, and began to walk away.

His body was still flushed with energy and he could've easily challenged the whole Slytherin team, had they been around. He felt invigorated—invincible, even. If they were in a match, no Quaffle would dare pass him. He wanted to run or leap or just turn back around, but a slow, steady walk away seemed like the cooler option.

Katie stood just as he had left her, arms stuck rigidly at her sides and legs stiff as a board despite the fact that they felt ready to dissolve into a leggy pudding. Her mind had barely begun to process the past few minutes. It needed time to catch up to her limbs, which seemed to be moving independently. Like a phantom, her arm floated up towards her face and her fingers reached out to touch her lips. They felt warm.

Suddenly, Oliver stopped and looked back. Katie looked up quickly, cursing herself for seeming too eager.

"Don't forget," he said as Katie quickly reclaimed control of her senses and turned around to acknowledge him. "Practice tomorrow morning at six thirty."

And like that, the words _practice_ and _six-thirty_ shattered the dreamy look she had been trying desperately to suppress. Oliver noticed the shift and smirked. He knew what was coming; he knew her well. Katie registered the information instantaneously and her expression soured into a scowl.

"What? Oliver Wood, there is no way I am waking up that early to fly laps around the pitch. Absolutely not." Her arms crossed themselves over her chest and her back straightened in a posture meant to expel all glimpses of weakness.

"Do what you want. I'm not changing it," Oliver said coolly. His eyes twinkled as she glared angrily at him from across the hallway. Once again, he turned his back and began to walk away. He held back a smile and added cheekily, "But you know what? I think you'll be there."

"What? Wh—" Katie hollered at Oliver's retreating form. "I promise you—I won't!"

It was an empty threat and they both knew it. He would see her the next morning at practice, six-thirty precisely. She would probably be the first one there, and for that, Oliver would not complain. He laughed to himself and continued down the hall, grinning like a fool.

Katie made a taunting face as Oliver disappeared around the corner. _Six-thirty in the morning_. She was exhausted and desperately in need of a bath. She let out a grunt and shook her head with frustration. He was a lunatic. He was a dictator. He was ridiculous and insufferable.

But as her mind cursed and spat at him, the corners of her mouth began to curl into a smile. Her hand rose up to brush her lips and her cheeks flushed at the fresh memory. She took one more glance down the hall before heading towards the Gryffindor common room.

Katie decided that she probably had gone a bit mad because suddenly, six-thirty in the morning didn't seem so bad.

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**THE END.**

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**Thanks again for reading! ****PLEASE REVIEW!**


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